


Slow Aurora

by dustoftheancients



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: F/M, Jedi Rey, Kylo gets angry at the world of politics, Rey is very good at ignoring her feelings and pretending they don't exist, Reylo - Freeform, Senator Kylo Ren, Until she isn't, and they're pulled together by the Force no matter what universe they're in, hes a chasm and shes a rock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-15
Updated: 2018-02-15
Packaged: 2019-03-18 22:00:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13690686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dustoftheancients/pseuds/dustoftheancients
Summary: After spending months as his bodyguard, Rey knew one thing: Kylo Ren was not meant to be a politician.But, perhaps she wasn't a very good Jedi, either.





	Slow Aurora

**Author's Note:**

  * For [PhelfromGrace](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PhelfromGrace/gifts).



> I decided to go with the third prompt:
> 
> AU - Senator Ben Solo and his loyal Jedi Rey. Hand holding in secret. UST.
> 
> I referred to him as Kylo in this, but obviously he's still Ben, as well. I hope you don't mind! This entire au was really fun for me, mostly because I like thinking of how many fights Kylo would get himself in if he actually became a senator. There's a lot of personal backstory that you don't get, but I fleshed out a lot of it in my head, and some of it is pretty easy to work out. I felt like I could write a whole fic of this au. I hope you like it!
> 
> This fic is part of the reylo fanfiction anthology's valentine's exchange. You should definitely check out the rest of those works, as well.

Kylo Ren was not meant to be a politician.

It was an opinion Rey had developed after months of watching the man work, of sitting next to him during senate sessions, of lingering nearby as he let himself get roped into yet another argument with his fellow senators on topics as mundane as water decontamination facility maintenance. She was convinced that he was physically incapable of not instigating conflict. Or of making friends, really. No one in the senate liked him.

“I don’t need anyone to like me,” he had snapped at the senator from Alderaan one night when she had visited his office. It had been a private visit, she had been trying to soften his stance on the allocation of certain government funds. Rey couldn’t remember the details.

Senator Organa drew herself to her full height, made impressive not by stature, but by will and grace and a fortitude for dealing with Senator Ren that Rey could not understand.

“Everyone needs friends, Ben. Even you.”

Rey had never heard anyone else call him that before, and she hadn’t since.

Kylo Ren had scoffed and turned away. Senator Organa shook her head once and turned to leave, but not before adding, “Especially you.”

Rey agreed.

It didn’t take a genius to figure out the broad strokes of politics, she knew he knew how to play the game. What’s more, she knew that behind the perpetual scowl and burning eyes Kylo Ren was an intelligent man. He _could_ have succeeded at this job, could have excelled in the back room deals and round-a-bout way of doing things that made the Republic actually work. It just went against his very grain to do so.

She could see it every time he clenched his fists, holding himself back from physically shaking the fight out of a fellow senator. She could see it flash in his eyes whenever legislation passed that he was opposed to. The physicality of his presence seemed to be a tangible thing hovering in the air around him, and she didn’t need the Force to sense it.

He was a berserker.

At his core, he was meant for the blunt violence of a brawl. The raging fury of a straight-on fight. His hands, his entire physique was meant to tear things down, to rend things in two. It was unnatural for him to be trapped in the world of politics, where the only acceptable weapons were words. Where he couldn’t use his hands.

They were all lucky, she supposed, that he had never been trained as a Jedi. There was only one way that would have turned out.

He was strong in the Force. But it was the strength of a storm, and sometimes it made her feel like she was teetering on the edge of chaos when she stood near him. In those moments, she tried to meditate, to clear her mind of anything to do with the tumultuous senator.

It never worked.

He noticed, one day. He had just lost another legislative fight, and the violence around him was like an electrical storm. Rey removed herself to the opposite side of the room.

“What are you doing?” He snapped, looking up from the note he was furiously scribbling. He was the only person she knew who wrote anything on actual flimsy.

The tone of his voice soured hers. “I’m trying to distance myself enough to meditate.”

There was always an informality to their interactions that would’ve raised more than a few brows on the council — including Master Skywalker’s. But Kylo expected nothing less. She had always been honest with him, ever since that first day when he had sneered at her for being no more than a knight and she had promptly returned that he would’ve only warranted a master for a bodyguard if he ever actually managed to get legislation passed.

She was fairly certain that she had earned his respect in that moment. It had taken him considerably longer to earn hers.

Kylo made a face. “Why do you need to meditate?”

“Because you’re disturbing me.”

His eyebrows shot up. The expression on his face shifted a little, turning less hostile and more confused. But his grip on his pen didn’t lessen. “I disturb you?”

It was hard to read his tone, hard to tell if he was irritated, mocking her, or just curious. She responded defensively all the same.

“You never control your emotions, they’re all over the place.” _It makes it difficult to concentrate_ , she almost added, but she wasn’t sure how he would have taken that, so she kept it to herself.

“You hardly ever control your emotions,” he fired back.

“That’s not true.”

“Yes, it is. You think I didn’t notice when you wanted to throttle the senator from Eriadu for marrying his niece to that criminal-”

She crossed her arms. “He sold her off like a—a common _bantha_ , and only to save his own monetary interests-”

“-or just yesterday, when you thought I should’ve apologized to the bureaucrat who sent me the wrong information packet-”

“Everyone makes mistakes, Kylo, that’s no reason to make someone cry-”

He ignored everything she said. “You wear your emotions on your face, plain as day. I don’t need the Force to be able to read you.”

A part of Rey thought he did, though. Use the Force. In moments such as those, when the storm around him started to abate and she could feel his presence reach out to her, instead, as if it was drawn to her. She was certain that he didn’t know he did it.

It told her that he was beginning to calm down, though. She let her spine relax a little. “You’re impossible.”

There was no bite to her words, and he knew it. His lips twitched, or his scowl lessened, and he fixed her with a look that gave her pause. She didn’t know what that look meant.

“It’s too bad you’re stuck with me, then, Jedi.” He used to call her that as a jab. It didn’t sound like a jab then, though.

Rey swallowed.

“I suppose I’m used to it,” she said after a moment. She turned and sank down on one of the dark couches he kept in his office, the one facing away from him. It didn’t exactly feel like hiding.

 

 

* * *

 

 

It was fascinating to watch him scribble away on pages of flimsy. He kept several notebooks shoved in the drawers of his desk. His handwriting was atrocious in his haste, and the strokes of his pen always seemed angry. 

She wondered why he didn’t just use a datapad like the rest of them.

 

 

* * *

 

 

There were days when she wondered why she had been assigned to guard the senator. Not Kylo Ren specifically — the man had enough enemies that she wondered how he found the peace of mind to sleep at all — but why _she_ had been assigned the job. Before, she had spent two standard months on Dantooine trying to mediate a union dispute. Not exactly the most glamorous mission, but it made her feel like she was helping people.

Here, it felt like she did nothing. And she hated the capitol.

In that, she and Kylo were the same.

“It’s the rainy season on Chandrila.”

Rey’s attention snapped up from the datapad she was reading. Kylo had handed it to her a while ago, grumbling something about _imbecilic populists_ , and had slouched in the chair behind his desk like a child. His gaze remained on the cityscape outside, his customary frown pulling at his mouth.

It was a beautiful day, cloudless and bright. The sun warmed his office in a way the utilitarian furnishings never could.

She placed the datapad on his desk. He almost never spoke of the planet he was from; she couldn’t resist asking. “Do you miss it?”

He gave her a sidelong glance, but said nothing. Rey tried not to let it irritate her.

“The halls of the Jedi temple practically glow when the light is like this,” she said instead. An offering, tit for tat. “I imagine most of the younglings will beg to have their classes outdoors today.”

All she received was a noncommittal grunt, and she nearly rolled her eyes. But, then he said, “I hate this weather. It’s too easy.”

“What?” She gave him a look.

“When it’s beautiful like this,” he gestured vaguely out the window at the gleaming buildings and the speeders that glittered as they passed, “The sun reflects off the worst parts, hides the problems. Makes it that much easier for _politicians_ to ignore.”

She couldn’t help the twitch in her lips at his sneering tone. “You’re a politician, too, you know.”

He made a noise in the back of his throat and looked up at her with a deadpan expression. “Don’t remind me.”

Rey didn’t stop her smile from growing. She liked his humor, sometimes. She liked how dry it was.

Kylo blinked. His eyes flickered to her mouth so quickly she was almost certain she imagined it. Then he turned his attention to the datapad she had placed on his desk. She became aware of just how close she was standing and moved closer to the window, farther away from him. A respectful distance.

“I like the rain,” she mentioned, trying to make her tone as nonchalant as possible. “I love it, actually.”

A soft rustling drew her attention over her shoulder. He stared at her with a flat line of his brow, focused in a way that unnerved her a bit. He opened his mouth.

“Come to the party with me tonight.”

She had forgotten about that. The party. He had mentioned it several days ago, something about the re-election of the senator from Ryloth, or perhaps their ruler. It was one of those events which made his scowl darker than usual, because it was primarily a social event. Any political dealings would be of the back-room persuasion, decidedly _not_ Kylo’s forte. He would be miserable.

“I’m already going with you,” she pointed out. “I’m your bodyguard.”

His eyes seemed almost amber in the sun. They practically glowed. “No. I mean, come _with_ me.”

Rey stared. Then realization dawned on her.

Oh.

Surely he didn’t mean—

All of her words got jumbled in her throat, which seemed to suddenly be housing her heart. She didn’t—

“I—”

She couldn’t seem to say anything else. Seconds passed between them. He seemed content to stare her down until he got an answer.

“You must have other options,” she finally managed to choke out.

He heaved a sigh, almost a growl, running his hand through his dark hair. “I can’t stand anyone that will be there.” She was a last resort, then. All at once, the tension between them snapped, evaporating like a cloud. Rey felt herself deflate.

Relief was mixed with—

“You can’t just ask a Jedi to be your date.”

He gave her a look. “Why not?” He asked, just to be difficult. They both knew why not.

“It’s not believable,” she said, somewhat lamely. She kept eye contact because she would be damned before he ever made her feel _that_ uncomfortable, but she was certain that her cheeks were still traitorously pink. He looked away first.

 “No,” he muttered after a moment, “I guess not.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

The holos of Chandrila during its rainy season looked miserable, and it apparently caused a lot of problems with flooding, even in the capital city. Rey looked it up later.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Rey accompanied Kylo Ren to the party — as his bodyguard, of course.

There would never be any confusion about that, anyhow. Not even if she had gone in a sparkling dress, hanging from his arm like some — _tart_. His reputation of being morose, temperamental company was far too engrained in the minds of his colleagues. Or so she overhead from a few of the aides.

Too terrifying to be charming. Too blunt to be romantic. He could tolerate no one, no one would tolerate _him_.

The aides gossiped too much.

She watched him scowl into his glass, slowly sipping at glass of Toniray wine. Sulking. Was he aware of the extent of his reputation? Of how far people went to avoid him? Had he cultivated that reputation purposely, or had it unintentionally grown from his combative nature? Surely he noticed how few of his fellow senators acknowledged him, how fewer still approached him.

It was a lonely bubble he had created for himself.

His eyes flashed, and she followed his line of sight to the far corner, where the senator from Parnassos was chatting seriously with the evening’s host. He stopped even pretending to enjoy his drink and watched them openly. She was the main opponent to the bill he had proposed during the last senatorial session. Rey thought it was strange, since the senator was one of the few people who sided with Kylo Ren regularly on the senate floor.

“Are you going to talk to her?” She wasn’t sure if she should step in or let things play out. Technically, she wasn’t supposed to interfere at _all_ , but, well. It was better to diffuse a fight before it began.

After a moment, Kylo shook his head.

“Not worth it,” he told her.

Rey blinked, then hummed in response.

The evening was admittedly beautiful. The ballroom had been decorated sparingly, but the overall brilliance of those in attendance far made up for it. Before she had been assigned to protect Kylo, she would never have been able to imagine this. The opulence took her breath away a little. She was — _ridiculously_ — aware of her simple Jedi tunic and wrap. Jedi robes were the only clothing she had ever owned.

Kylo himself dressed as he always did, in simple, dark robes. They cut expensive, sleek lines, but were far less ostentatious than most of his peers. Not to mention how unusual it was for the senator of Chandrila to wear anything other than white. Knowing him, he probably did it on purpose.

“Do you want something to drink?”

Rey snapped out of her reverie. At her expression, the corner of Kylo’s mouth quirked. “Do you want something to drink?” He repeated.

“Oh,” she cleared her throat, “no, I can’t.”

“ _Won’t_ ,” he corrected. She couldn’t tell if he was irritated or amused.

“I’m a Jedi.”

He opened his mouth to say something else, but one of his fellow senators approached him. Their frowns almost matched, although no one could ever truly match Kylo when it came to scowling.

“Well, Ren, I must admit I did not expect you to show your face tonight.” The senator from Arkanis always had immaculate posture, and spoke in a cultured coruscanti accent that made her own sound like a back-water drawl. It was like being in the presence of a droid — only this one had a beating heart. Probably.

Rey disdained him. Kylo _loathed_ him.

“Hux. Don’t you have anything better to do than bother me?” He sneered, taking a deliberate sip of his wine. “Or am I your only friend here?”

Senator Hux did not rise to the bait. “Hardly. I wish to discuss the bill you proposed today.”

Kylo arched his brow but did not say anything.

“I think it’s a good idea—quite possibly, the only one you’re ever going to have-”

Kylo clenched his drink so tightly Rey thought the glass might shatter. “Why don’t you do us all a favor and jump into the nearest-”

“-but because you’re _you_ , it’s going to be difficult to make the other senators see the bills merits. I can help you with that.”

“And you think I want your help?” Kylo scoffed.

“I think you want this bill to pass, and you can’t afford to lose any more allies.”

Senator Organa had said something similar not too long ago, something about him not having any friends. Rey wondered if the memory flashed through his mind, as well. His expression darkened. “It’s unusual for you to care about the people.”

A sneer twisted the other senator’s face, and Rey narrowed her eyes at him. “Yes, well. That’s the whole point of democracy, isn’t it? To put aside personal goals for the good of the people?”

The words sounded like a mockery. Like hatred.

Senator Hux’s gaze shifted over to her. His expression did not soften one bit as he nodded. “Master Jedi. Always a pleasure.”

“Senator Hux,” she returned coolly, keeping the surprise from her voice. He had addressed her perhaps only once before, and his sudden social politeness made her extremely wary. Beside her, she sensed Kylo bristle.

The senator turned and left without another word. For a long moment, both of them watched him go. Then Kylo made like he was going to follow.

Rey’s hand shot out before she thought better of it. She snatched his free hand in hers, digging her fingers in his palm in a vice-like grip. Something strange shot between them when she touched him, something like electricity. His skin was warm underneath hers, she could almost feel his pulse-

He froze at the contact. Slowly, his gaze slid down to their hands. He seemed transfixed.

“Don’t follow him.” It wouldn’t do him any good to get into a fight at another party. He would likely seriously injure the other senator, and — even if senator Hux deserved it — she was tired of feeling as if her job was to protect other people from him, instead of the other way around.

But — he didn’t take his eyes off of his hand in hers. It occurred to her that perhaps he felt the same energy pass between them that she did. Rey felt her cheeks start to grow warm. “Alright? Kylo?” She pressed, remembering too late that it was not Jedi-like to call him by his first name in public. The slight squeeze of her fingers was unintentional.

Kylo’s gaze snapped up. His fingers closed around hers.

“Alright.”

Rey’s breath caught. She snatched her hand back as if she had been burned by fire — and it felt like she had. Crossing her arms close to her chest, she nodded. Force, she hated how flustered she felt. Flustered over nothing.

“Good.”

Kylo Ren stared at her for a moment more. His hand clenched into a fist at his side.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Rey spent the next few days keeping her hands firmly to herself. And even though she knew Kylo noticed the extra distance she kept between them, he didn’t mention it.

 

 

* * *

 

 

He asked her to look over something on his datapad, and he handed it to her so that their fingers brushed. It felt a little like revenge.

 

 

* * *

 

 

The worst part of her assignment was sitting through senatorial sessions. The endless debating, splitting the hairs on proposed legislation that could actually help people if they would just let something pass. Some days were filled with speeches, entreaties for one world or the other. Many of those conflicts would end up brought before the Jedi council. Occasionally, there was a day when the senate felt content to just — glide by without any real controversy. But most days, it felt like everyone just yelled over each other.

And Rey was stuck through all of it, nestled in a side seat in the Chandrilan senatorial pod. She crossed and recrossed her legs every few minutes, trying to keep herself awake. For months, she had been attending these sessions. Months of torture, if only because it seemed these people could hardly get anything done.

Force knew how Kylo Ren managed to keep himself from going berserk in the middle of a session, or from simply dying in his seat. Not that he ever sat still for long.

If there was one thing that could be said about him, it was that he was passionate about his job. About _everything_. He spent as much time out of his seat as he did in it, usually making his opposition to some other senator known. Sometimes it felt like he shot down anything proposed by the senators of Alderaan or Arkanis simply on principle. And it always felt like he was moments away from ramming his pod in one of the others. His storm always seemed so dark and violent when the senate was in-session, and that unpredictability always put her on-edge.

Sometimes, it was the only thing that kept her awake.

That day was different. Much of it had been spent listening to speeches given by key leaders from Onderon, most of them broadcasted by hologram, about the recent civil reforms. Rey paid attention to those. A few of her fellow Jedi had been assigned to aide in resolving that conflict peacefully.

Kylo Ren spent nearly the entire time glued to his datapad.

It had to be a very dull session if not even Senator Ren was paying attention. Bloodless conflicts weren’t worth the Republic’s time, it seemed. She knew she was being petty — and more than a little unfair — but she couldn’t help but bristle as she took in the general lackluster mood of the senate. Many senators were doing the same thing Kylo was, or chatting with someone in their pod. Not paying attention. She could only glimpse a handful of people actually listening, actually nodding along during the reports of diplomacy and compromise.

Senator Organa paid attention, of course.

The senior senator always did the right thing. She truly cared, as far as Rey could tell, and had spent years passing legislation that benefitted many people across many planets. Rey respected her greatly, both as a politician and simply because she apparently held the secret to dealing with Kylo Ren.

She could not comprehend why he seemed to hold her in such great contempt.

“Why does she call you Ben?” Rey asked one evening after another tense meeting with the older senator. She had asked him to sign a populist petition, which he flatly refused. It was a little unusual, since it was widely known that Kylo was a centrist. And when she left, Senator Organa had seemed to linger by the doorway for a second too long. Rey had only just started noticing that she often did that.

Kylo Ren didn’t respond. Irritated, she turned to see him looking at her with a different sort of frown than usual. A softer frown, a little distant. Even his storm felt distant. She couldn’t tell what he was thinking, but she felt that familiar pull between them in the Force.

“What?” She asked.

He came back to himself. “It’s nothing.” He tossed his datapad on his desk with a sudden, heavy _thud_. And before she could ask him again, he added, “It’s the name I was born with.”

“Your name is Ben?” That surprised her. She could see that he did not want to talk about it, even though she found herself itching to know more. It was like Chandrila, only different. More personal. She was almost surprised that he admitted to it at all, that he didn’t snap at her and demand that she mind her own business. “It’s a nice name,” she couldn’t help but mention. A thank you of sorts.

Kylo snapped his attention back towards her, his gaze narrowed as if he was trying to decipher some deeper meaning to her words. A slight, maybe. Or maybe he thought she was making fun of him.

He never took his eyes off of her. Rey refused to shift under his scrutiny.

“Only from you.”

He promptly turned and crossed over to his desk, his storm returning full-force and dark.

Kylo’s words stopped her cold. For a moment, she thought that maybe she had simply misheard heard him, except for the fact that he decidedly did not look up at her again. Her heart twisted sharply. She should not have let him say something like that. But she could not have stopped him any more than she could stop the flush that spread across her cheeks. She was glad that he had looked away from her so that he couldn’t see it.

Ben.

She watched as some of his dark hair fell in his eyes and he distractedly pushed it aside. Neither of them spoke to the other.

 

 

* * *

 

 

She should not have replayed his words over in her head, or the sound of his voice when he said her name. She should not have closed her eyes and tried to recall the spark of her skin against his.

Those memories were far too dangerous, and they would only get them both in trouble.

 

 

* * *

 

 

One morning, Rey left the senate building before anyone got up. She left a message on Kylo’s datapad that read, _Summoned by the council. Be back soon._

She spent hours at the temple - more than she needed to - walking through the great halls and lingering in the courtyards until the time the council had requested her presence. It felt like hiding because it was, and she loathed it. But she hid all the same.

A curious apprehension fluttered in her stomach, and she could not seem to made it go away. She wanted to return to Kylo, but, at the same time, she didn’t want to see him for at least another week. Time enough to get herself under control.

Evening seemed to light the entire temple on fire, washing it in the last red light of the day. It would be gone in less than an hour, the sun slipped over the horizon. Far away, the city would come alive. The city always seemed far away from the temple, no matter how close the speeders flew. Disconnected and immaterial.

It made Rey uneasy to walk the temple halls during that time of day. Passing between light and shadow as she walked past the endless pillars had always seemed a little like a premonition to her. The pillars felt like they blocked too much of the light, like they let in too much darkness. Master Kenobi had smiled indulgently when she had mentioned it to him as a teenager, and she had been so embarrassed that she never brought it up again. But the feeling didn’t go away.

That evening, the feeling was worse. Or, it was made worse by her restlessness, and by the fact that she could see the senate building clearly through the temple’s great windows.

If she was in her right mind, she would not have allowed herself to become so informal with Kylo. He was a senator, for Force’s sake. If she had remained formal, distant as Jedi should be, then this whole — _thing_ — would never have happened. And she would not have run back to the temple with the feeling that twisted so violently in her gut. She found herself worried that her fellow knights would be able to sense it. As if she had something to hide.

It was a blessing to be summoned by the council, to have an excuse to return to the only home she had ever known. Although, she was confused as to why she had been summoned. Perhaps she was to be given a new assignment. Finally allowed to leave Coruscant and go somewhere that truly needed a Jedi’s help. But, then she would have to leave Kylo, possibly in the care of another of her fellow Jedi. Or perhaps everyone deemed the danger passed, and he would no longer have a bodyguard at all. At least not a Jedi.

That was not likely; Kylo Ren had enough enemies that wished him harm to last a life-time, maybe more. Still, the stone that settled in her stomach felt like a boulder. She decidedly did not want to examine that feeling, mixed in with the other.

She took a long, deep breath as she stepped out of the turbolift to the council’s chambers. The round room seemed to overlook everything, a lighthouse to the capital. To the Republic.

The council was not in session. Rey paused by the entrance.

Masters Kenobi and Skywalker stood with their heads bowed together, their voices low in private conversation. Neither looked terribly stressed, but that didn’t really mean anything. Master Kenobi never looked stressed. They both turned to address her after a moment. She still hovered by the entrance.

“Rey,” Master Kenobi nodded with the same composed grace as always. “It’s good to see you.”

Master Skywalker nodded as well. “Ah, good. You’re here.”

“Master Kenobi, Master Skywalker.” Rey bowed respectfully. “I was summoned by the council?”

“Is that a question?” Master Skywalker quirked a brow, humor lacing his tone.

She shook her head, trying not to feel like a child. “No, but…The council isn’t here.”

“Very astute,” he said, although not unkindly. “We wanted to speak to you in private.”

That did not bode well. She watched Master Kenobi cross in front of his council chair and take a seat. Master Skywalker didn’t bother to sit. She stood frozen to the spot by the chamber entrance. Neither of them asked her to come closer, but she wasn’t sure that she could make her legs move even if they had.

She was sure that her apprehension played out on her features. Kylo had told her that she wore her emotions on her sleeve.

Was it about the past few months? Was it about the hitch in her breath when she brushed against the senator she had been assigned to protect? About the flutter in her chest and the stone in her gut that she had carried around the temple all day? That didn’t make sense, though. No one had been there. She had done nothing wrong. But, somehow, it all felt damning.

It felt like things a Jedi shouldn’t do.

“I’m going to cut to the chase,” Master Skywalker said, either sensing her anxiety or seeing it on her face. “The Chancellor has reason to believe that Senator Ren of Chandrila was personally involved in an anarchist coup to overthrow and assassinate the existing political powers on Corellia.”

Rey’s mouth nearly dropped open. It took her a moment to truly register their words.

“I—what?”

“If this is true, then Senator Ren has committed a highly illegal act for a member of the senate,” Master Kenobi said. “He will have to be removed from office immediately.”

Her words came out in a jumble. “But there’s no proof.” She didn’t really know if any evidence had been uncovered, but it couldn’t be real even if it had. Kylo would never do that. He just wouldn’t. Why else become a senator if he didn’t believe in the process of law and democracy? Why else would he insist on devoting his life to working with tools he hated if he didn’t think the tools worked?

But, there was a small part of her—a tiny, miniscule part—that wondered out outlandish the claim actually was. A part of her that realized he _might_ do something like that, if he believed it was the right thing to do. It was the part that remembered how unfit he was for the bloodless life of a politician.

The part that reminded her he was a berserker.

She didn’t know what to think. All she felt was the burning desire to defend him.

Even if it was true.

“This is ridiculous—”

Master Skywalker interrupted her. “The Chancellor has requested that we look into this matter quietly. To that end, the council requests that you use your current proximity to the senator to gather whatever information you can. Evidence will either prove his innocence, or his guilt.”

Slowly, Rey closed her mouth. She shifted her gaze from one master to the other, but both wore the same expression.

In a moment of wild fury, she let herself identify the twist in her heart, the clench in her gut. That unnamed emotion — that thing that was so _non-Jedi_ — she allowed herself to name.

She let herself admit that she had feelings for him.

As if she was anyone else in the galaxy. Any other woman. As if admitting as much to herself wasn't taking a hammer to the very foundations and principles she had been raise on, as if her Code didn't specifically forbid such feelings. As if she had not just betrayed the Jedi in some small way. In the most vital way, because if she didn't respect the Jedi Code enough to honor it completely, then—

She could be expelled from the Jedi order.

Rey tucked those secret feelings away, locked them away in her heart. She stood in front of two of the greatest masters in the Jedi Order — she was in more danger of that betrayal being discovered here than anywhere else.

The two masters waited for her to say something, but at first, she could think of nothing that would not cause them to reassess her in a far more negative light. Closing her eyes, she took a long, steadying breath. She opened her eyes, lifted her chin, and spoke in as even a tone as she could manage. She willed herself to appear strong.

“Senator Ren is not guilty of this crime. It’s a ridiculous accusation, and I will prove it to you both. And to the Chancellor.”

Then, barely remembering to bow to them both, she turned on her heels and marched back to the waiting turbolift. Neither of them said anything to stop her, but she felt their eyes follow her, trained on her back. Despite her obvious displeasure, they would expect her to follow her assignment. They would expect her to actually spy on him.

Rey’s blood thundered in her ears, her heart hammering beneath her ribs. She couldn’t seem to unclench her hands, which had curled into fists. As she stepped into the turbolift, she wondered if they could sense it. Knew they could.

Outside, the sun began to slip over the horizon.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

It was a beautiful evening, cool and clear. The lights from the buildings shone like stars all around her, flashing and bright.

She didn’t pay attention to any of it. Her hands were still shaking. 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

By the time she reached his office, she might as well have been one of the last people in the galaxy.  Few traversed the halls of the senate building at night, and those who did were almost always either security personnel or the occasional aide sent on some late-night assignment. Most of the senators, Rey had found, disappeared after the sun went down.

Kylo Ren was where he always was in the evening, holed up in his office, hunching over his furiously scribbled notes. There had been a senatorial session that day. By the look on his face, it had been a particularly grueling one.

Rey felt the faintest sense of déjà vu. How many times had she seen this exact sight? She did not realize she was staring until he glanced up from his work.

His hair was a mess; he must have been raking his hands through it all day. “Would it be too difficult to mention that you’re abandoning me _before_ you actually do so next time?” His words immediately spiked her ire. She opened her mouth correct him, to tell him that she was not _abandoning_ him, she had duties to the council — but then she noticed the not-frown on his face and realized that he was joking.

But she also felt him in the Force, felt how his untrained energy reached out to her and pulled her closer. Desperately, almost. She had worried him.

Guilt deflated her. She exhaled, suddenly too tired to resist his pull. Not that she truly wanted to, if she was being honest with herself. Since she was doing that now, apparently. She approached him slowly. He kept his attention fixed on her, unwavering. He swallowed.

“It was unexpected,” she offered as an explanation. Then, because she saw how dark the circles under his eyes were, she added, “I’m sorry.”

He stared up at her. His hair created shadows across his eyes.

“What’s wrong?”

Rey opened her mouth, barely managing to stop the words from falling out. She — wanted to tell him everything. Someone has accused you of aiding anarchists, she wanted to say. The Chancellor wants to know whether to remove you from the senate or not. She wanted to tell him that she had been tasked with spying on him, on proving his innocence or his guilt. She wanted to demand to know if it was true. She wanted to tell him that she had finally figured it out, why his skin burned and why electricity shot between them and what she thought it all _meant_.

Rey wanted to be totally upfront with him.

The sentiment startled her.

When it came to keeping the confidence of the Jedi masters — and, by extension, the Chancellor — or telling this man everything that she had just been told—

Keeping her loyalty to the Jedi was not her first instinct. Even though she had already betrayed the Order, she had been about to do it _again_ , and without thought. Because of him.

She wanted to tell Kylo everything.

And—

Kylo stood, the notes he had been writing forgotten. He moved around his desk so that he could stand directly in front of her, but he came far too close. Too close to help Rey think clearly, when she already found herself pulled between the Jedi and _him_. Tilting his head, he studied her.

“Rey, did something happen?”

Yes.

Yes, something had happened.

Her eyes flickered to the door, which she had forgotten to close. The well-illuminated corridor cast a finger of light onto his dark office floor, and it felt like an intrusion. He shouldn't stand so close, she thought. If someone walked by—

The brush of his hand on her wrist startled her, and instantly, she forgot what she had been thinking. That same electrical current passed between them, shooting up her arm. Rey closed her eyes and tried to focus on breathing, on not falling into the magnetic chasm that stood towering over her, that chaos of his that always beckoned.

His hand slid down to hold her hand. She let him cover her fingers with his, the warmth of his skin almost searing. First the first time since the temple, she unclenched her hands. The breath that escaped her came out long and haggard. Relieved. Warmth spread to her cheeks. Even without opening her eyes, she felt him move closer. He smelled clean, a little like soap and something else that she suspected was just him.

“Rey,” he whispered, so close to the top of her head. She could feel the warmth of his breath against her hair.

She couldn’t help but lean closer, couldn’t help tilting her head up, just a little. The air between them was so was thin.

Her eyes opened, suddenly unable to resist looking at him. That, she realized instantly, was a mistake. Kylo stood so, so close, the light from his desk shining just enough light in his eyes to turn them a dark shade of amber. His dark lashes fluttered as his gaze flickered between her eyes and her lips, his breathing just as uneven as hers.

She didn't need to tell him what it all meant, she realized. Them. His eyes said he had already figured it out for himself. She hadn't noticed that she had reached up to touch his chest until she twisted her fingers in the dark fabric of his shirt. To hold him still, or—

If she would only tilt her chin up just a little more, if he would bent his neck—

“I’m a Jedi,” she breathed. Pleaded. It was such a thin defense, her only defense. It felt like nothing.

A line appeared between his brows. He looked like he was going to argue.

“Kylo, please. Please, don’t make me—”

“I won’t make you do anything,” he said with that familiar downward pull to his lips. It was so much worse, though, because there was hurt in it. Pain. “I couldn’t if I tried.”

That wasn’t true, but she couldn’t tell him that. In the darkest part of her heart, she knew that if he grabbed her, if he demanded that she kiss him, she would not be able to refuse. She didn’t want to refuse, and that was the worst part.

She was a Jedi. She was a _Jedi_.

No matter how traitorous her heart.

Kylo transfixed her with his gaze, dark and intense and focused only on her. She could not seem to tear her eyes away from the yearning she saw there, the bone-deep ache of having someone you want a breath away and not being able to truly _have_ them. Everything in his eyes reflected what she felt in hers. Slowly, he reached up his free hand and twisted a finger in a few loose strands of her hair. His thumb brushed her cheek once, twice. His grip on her hand tightened, as if he was afraid that she would pull away.

Some other time, she might have been able to. She might have tried. But she was far too close to the edge of doing something utterly, entirely stupid to even consider it.

“If I wasn’t—” She began, trying not to be cruel. Wishing more than anything that she was weak.

He pressed his lips into a hard line. “I know,” he said.

Then, bringing their entwined hands to his mouth, he kissed her fingers.


End file.
